This is not masochism

So there we were, sitting cross-legged A scarcity of noise within the scene What was I supposed to say? "Sorry for my good judgement"? I don't tend to veer near narcissism. So there we were, yet again Circulating around the sphere of intent I knew the notion abundant in your mind The question was, would you follow your instinct? So there we were, the third time round Wondering if my credibility was so profuse after all Who was the wrongdoer? Who turned the switch And initiated the meltdown of our bind? So here we are But what this time? My notebook appears to have run out of pages.